Memories Like Paper Cuts
by Yamishi-kun
Summary: An old Sladin fic that I decided to throw on here. Not that great. Slade rapes Robin. Reviews are encouraged.


I posted this on /y/ a few months ago and never got around to posting it here.  
As Always, reviews are very much appreciated.  
_

Robin found himself there again, that stupid fairground. The abandoned area reminded the masked teen of himself in some oddly symbolic way. The park had been dark, dismal and oppressive for the whole of Robin's recent memory.  
The house of mirrors reminded him of his self-worth, a part of him that had—until the incident—been the pinnacle of his priorities.

The jagged, broken mirrors in the expansive room reflected broken parts of him. Hair here, an arm over there, the same disgusted scowl all around him; he couldn't bear the sight of himself now. It made him want to vomit.

Looking at the hundreds of disembodied slivers of himself did not make him feel better, it made him look how he felt: dislocated, isolated, empty. It made him seem weak, frail. He sank slowly to his knees , barely able to keep his eyes open. At last, he let out one lonely, mournful sob and crumpled to the ground in a heap of tattered and abused flesh.

"Why?" His voice cracked when he questioned. His body trembled as he slipped between his isolation in the room to the horror in his mind.

That reviling copper and onyx mask, its haunting, unblinking eye; they haunted the insides of his eyelids. He sank into memory, as he always did, powerless to stop himself from dwelling on the pain.

"My my, Robin, what a predicament you find yourself in." The smooth baritone above the hero was like hell's chorus against Robin's eardrums. He shouted in protest, but the foul-tasting cloth stuffed in his mouth swallowed his words.

The hero was helpless against his most hated adversary. Naked from the mask down, Robin lay completely vulnerable. He had tried for minutes to free his arms from the tight, abrasive irons that bound them behind his back, parallel to one another.

"Nnmpf!" was all the teen could manage out as he struggled against the heavy ropes that held his legs aloft and apart, displaying his most-private areas to the sadistic monster before him.

Slade crept intently toward the boy on his bed. "You're displaying yourself like a bitch in heat, Robin," the man mocked. Slade harshly moved a thick, gloved, finger over Robin's exposed, dark nipple, earning for himself a scream from the protesting boy. 'stop stop stop!' Robin wanted to scream, only portraying three deep, raspy groans.

Slade chuckled mockingly at the powerless young man. "Sounds like you're having a splendid time, Robin." He chided with a backhanded smirk under the dually colored mask.

Robin's shame began to grow against his will. He protested against his body with a sharp whimper. Slade's thumbs slid across the two pert, fleshy, peaks with purpose, earning more moans from the boy whose body was a traitorous whore. "Hnnnff. Fffnnn!" The teen cried as the man's fingers began to go south. "Too bad, Robin, I can't seem to understand you, with the duct tape and your underwear and all." Slade responded.

The half-hardened member was pumped without regard a few times as the incapacitated teen screamed in protest. "Fffnnn!" He shouted.

"Shut up and enjoy this, you're whining like a child, Robin!" Slade finally snapped as he moved away and the teen sighed in relief.

Sadly, though, this solitude was not to last, as Robin began to watch the villain strip himself of the armor and suit he wore.

A solid, unmarked body greeted Robin's eyes. A thick chest with a built core, Slade's body had no flaws whatsoever. His cock was thick and already half-hard, with a length that made Robin scream.

Suddenly, a sharp, fearsome pain across his rear made the hero gasp in pain. "Didn't I tell you to shut the fuck up?" Slade asked calmly as a tear streaked down Robin's face like a shooting star.

Robin quickly clasped a gloved hand over his mouth as he began to sob with volume, it would be unacceptable of anyone to find him in this situation. As he shouted into his hand he slammed his fist into the concrete floor with such strength and determination that the faint black stains appearing on the glove's knuckles was almost expected.

The teen slowly got control over himself and stood, half-earnestly shaking off the pain in his right hand. "Home," was the only word he could utter at the time. It was all he could think about, his impregnable bedroom, safe, warm, almost womb-like in its ability to quell his sorrow. 'The rest of the team should be home by now,' Robin thought to himself. In fact, Robin had absolutely no idea what time it was, how long he'd been lying on the floor of that dreadfully symbolic building.

The walk to the tower was long and brutal on the hero's body. He walked without vigor, without posture, it was almost amazing, Robin thought, that it was so easy, so…instinctual for the human body to keep moving, to move on, no matter what.

He didn't want to be spoken to, or about, right now, a disposition that made his heart sink as he saw the light on in the common area of the tower. "Fuck." He let out as he neared the Enormous "T".

He opened the door to the tower by punching in the ID number as quickly as he could, the stairs were as steep as he remembered, and he made his way up them with a swaying step. He opened the door to the common area not to the sounds of Mega Monkey 5 or Ultimate Racer. Nor to the sounds of some stupid television show. He didn't hear Cyborg fighting with Beast boy, or Starfire prattling on about any Tamaranian festival. All he heard were those three words, those three prying words that he knew were the words of concern, but were also words of curiosity, curiosity that he didn't want to indulge.

"Azarath metrion zinthos." Raven said to herself one last time, turning to face the boy creeping in the doorway. "Where have you been? It's three in the morning." She asked, a dash of concern in her otherwise monotone voice.

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to." Robin replied curtly. He tried to sidestep her but she moved into his way intentionally. "Robin, I know something's wrong, you can talk to me. I'm your friend." She insisted.

"No." It was unbecoming of someone to talk to anyone else about this.

Robin put a hand on her cloaked shoulder and shook his head. "It's nothing, go to bed." He walked out of the room and into the hallway that connected the bedrooms with the rest of the tower. "I just want to go to bed." He told himself as he stripped of the half-bloodstained pair of gloves and the steel-inlaid boots. He threw himself onto the bed after losing the cape and drifted off into a restless sleep.

This thick tear was collected by a soft and uncharacteristically gentle finger, "Why so glum, chum?" Slade asked, mocking the teen's obvious resentment.

"You should be happy, I'm going to take you to places you couldn't dream of, Robin." Slade chuckled after moving away from the bed for a moment to retrieve a small, golden ring. "Can you guess what this is for? Three chances." Slade mocked again, twirling the gilded hoop in front of the hero's eyes.

Robin's body tensed immediately as the cold surface made contact with the head of his limp manhood. The tight ring slowly slid down the smaller man's traitorous need, gaining vigor with each second of human contact.

"I thought you'd start to enjoy yourself early on, youth makes fools of us all." Slade began in that calculating, evil manner. "So I thought this would make you a little less…johnny on the spot." The taller man chuckled again.

Robin squirmed, groaning as the sensitivity in his captivated cock rose exponentially as time went on. The bed sank slowly as the villain eased himself into the empty space between the others legs. "I can see everything, Robin, haven't you any shame? It's like it's calling me to it." Slade said to the boy as he gently eased the tip of his finger around the boy's defenseless opening.

"Hnnff! Mmm!" Robin fought against the bonds, but it was all for naught as he did little but slide further down the bed, subsequently opening his legs further.

"Mm…I like your enthusiasm." Slade furthered the ministrations upon the taut flesh.

Slade squeezed a small amount of lube onto his working finger. "It's time, you little whore." The slicked finger slid in easily, the rest of his hand brushing up against Robin's perineum. "Practiced I see."

Slade took little time before inserting a second finger, "That's tighter." Slade mocked. "Have you ever felt this part of yourself before?" Slade asked with a pronounced jab at Robin's prostate, earning a scream of ecstasy the likes of which nobody had ever heard from the reserved and all-too serious hero.

Robin gasped through his nose, attempting to catch his breath after about five minutes and three fingers of full-prostate onslaught. "Hnnmmfffff…" He begged, "Uuuhhhhfff"

Slade could do little less than laugh heartily at the hero's drunken lust. "What a fucking slut you turned out to be, Robin. You're just hungry for whatever cock you can get into you, aren't you?"

Soon a hand moved to rip open the tape spanning the raven-haired boy's mouth, dragging out the black underwear with it.

"Say it."

"Hh…what?" Robin asked.

"Tell me, in your own words, how much of a fucking slut you are, Robin."

"Please, Slade, let me go." A fierce jab at Robin's prostate kept him on topic.

"I...wanna cum…please, Slade"

"Then say it."

"I'm a slut." He cried out with defeated resolve.

"Not good enough." Slade began to remove his fingers from the boy.

"I…I'm a slut. I'm a whore who wants to be fucked, wants to be fucked with your hot cock. Please, please fuck me." Robin begged, "Much better."

Slade completely removed the fingers, and while lubing his now-hard cock, rubbed his other hand up and down Robin's dark red manhood.

"Ahh...please." Robin begged.

Slade slowly positioned himself above Robin, placing the tip of his cock to the awaiting entrance. "Please." Robin continued, begging like a common wanton whore.

In a single, quick, violent thrust, Slade's thick arousal penetrated the hero. Instinctually the hero squirmed and screamed in panic at the sudden intrusion.

"Calm down and have a good time, Robin." Slade advised, pulling out and plunging in, setting a rhythm. Moans and screams melded into one.

Robin's quaint and liberal form begged for release and closure, Slade's for release and ownership.

As the rhythm quickened to sonic proportions, both bodies burned for sexual fulfillment. Robin screamed at every thrust, his prostate becoming bruised with the ferocity of Slade's gyrating hips.

"Please, fuck me. Fuck me!" Robin begged.

"Shit…" Slade came quickly into the tight passage, thrusting in as far as he possibly could.

Robin yearned for his own climax, "Please, Slade…Master, take it off. Please, " the teen begged, almost crying. "please." He moaned.

"I don't think so."

Slade pulled out of the boy and made for the door, laughing at Robin's screams and swears.

This torture was repeated for three days, Robin befell numerous pains and pleasures at the hands of his mortal enemy, the last being what he now looked upon as his reverie ended and he walked into the shower.

The warm steel tube was obviously going nowhere without mutilation to his most private of parts.

"Fuck you, Slade."


End file.
